


Last Night

by ZaliaChimera



Category: The Walk - Fandom
Genre: Espionage, F/F, LGBTQ Female Character, POV Female Character, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona and Charlie meet in Geneva before Fiona returns to England and Inverness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> I will probably cringe in a couple of months when I've played more of The Walk, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Charlie’s hotel is elegant and luxurious and probably obscenely expensive. Everything in Geneva is expensive though so it’s quite possible that this is just mid-range by Swiss standards.

Fiona wonders at having meetings for a group like theirs in one of the diplomatic centres of the world, when she knows that if all of this goes wrong, they could well be branded worse terrorists than the ones they’re working against, but she can appreciate irony. 

The invitation had said 7pm. Fiona is there at 6.45pm exactly, blending in with the bankers and diplomats in her smart business suit and briefcase. No-one ever questions someone with a briefcase. 

Sixth floor, near the fire escape just in case, turning the keycard she’d been slipped over and over in her fingers. The man in the elevator who she’d thought might be following her gets off at the third floor. She sighs in relief.

She doesn’t relax until the key’s in the lock and she’s inside the door and the bolt is thrown. She resist the urge to check for bugs. Charlie will have done that already. She should have done that already.

Fiona checks anyway, sweeps the room, finds nothing.

"I’ll be out in a minute!" Charlie calls from the bathroom, through the sound of running water. 

Fiona shakes her head, sits down on the plush sofa and examines the mini bar for a moment. She scorns the wine and pours herself a gin and tonic, sipping it slowly. She needs a drink, but she also needs to not get drunk. A hangover will not serve her well at the airport.

Her briefcase has the hard copy files, backups of backups just in case their system fails, and she sets the case down on the table ready. 

The door opens, steam curling through it and Charlie steps out, towel wrapped around her torso and her hair, water slick drips running down her shoulders like condensation on Fiona’s glass. Her gaze dips low for a moment, lingering and drifting slowly back up.

"Fiona."

"Charlie."

Charlie gestures to the briefcase, one hand still clutching the towel closed. “These are…?”

Fiona nods. “Yes. Everything that we have access to until more intel arrives.”

"Good. That is good."

Silence, awkward and cloying. Fiona runs her finger around the rim of her glass. Charlie tucks the end of the towel into itself so she can start trying to dry her hair.

Fiona watches for a moment and then sighs. Don’t get attached. The creed she’s supposed to live by. They’ve lost good people. It’s easier, always easier, if she doesn’t care. And it’s easier for Charlie if she goes now, drop finished. Plane back to Britain in the morning.

"Come here," Fiona says, her voice dropping, warm and low as she beckons Charlie over. "Let me."

Charlie smiles at her, a sweet girlish curl of her lips as she goes to sprawl on the sofa, head in Fiona’s lap, long legs stretched out over the arm and the towel sliding down to expose a few inches of pale thigh. “Thought you’d never ask.”

She rubs Charlie’s hair dry, the towel discarded before too long. Her hair is red today, but soft beneath Fiona’s fingers and fluffs up as she strokes it, sticking out in mad angles. Charlie practically purrs at the petting. 

And she shouldn’t. She knows the risks. She knows the rules. She kisses Charlie anyway and the other woman hums against her lips, propping herself up on one arm. 

"What time is your flight tomorrow?" Charlie asks softly, brushing her lips down along Fiona’s jaw, nudging at the collar of the ever so practical white blouse.

"Late enough," Fiona murmurs. "Unless you’d rather I leave?"

"No. Not at all. I am stuck in Geneva for another week at least. A little company now will take the edge off."

"Always glad to be of assistance," Fiona says, amused.

"Oh good. I do like people who enjoy their work," Charlie replies with a teasing smile and another kiss that lingers even when they kiss again.

It’s later, much later when the hotel’s King sized bed has been put to good use and Fiona would kill for a cigarette but the smoke alarm on the ceiling is mocking her. Charlie’s face is pressed against her neck, her nose cold against her collarbone, her body warm and lithe wrapped around hers.

Charlie gives a sleepy mumble. “I upgraded you to first class for the flight. Much more suitable for a businesswoman leaving Geneva, yes?”

"Very kind."

"I can be kind when I want to be."

"Should I be honoured?" Fiona asks wryly.

Charlie opens her eyes a crack. “Of course.” She lapses into silence for a moment, her grip tightening. “I sent you details of weapons caches in the area. Inverness is not the best place, but we have some still. I do not think that The Burn kn-“

"I have my own ways," Fiona replies, turning to kiss her temple lightly. "Doesn't everyone?"

Charlie makes a face. “I like my ways better. You will be careful.”

"Of course. I am always careful."

"I do not know if we can be careful enough now," Charlie says pensively. "Things are…"

"Coming together. Falling apart. I suppose we’ll find out in a few days."

Charlie is silent for a moment and then nods. “A few days is a very long time.”


End file.
